Deer to my Heart
by Korriah
Summary: Here's a little something that's been sitting in my head for years. Our friend Arte finds himself dying in the middle of a snowy forest from hypothermia. Who, what, when, where, and why? Read to find out!  Original setting.
1. It's a bit chilly, innit?

It was cold to that point where your breath did not really even mist in front of your face anymore. Even the hardest pants would earn you little more than a thin trailing of barely visible white leaking from the corner of your mouth. The trees cracked both under the weight of the snow that dragged down their branches and that peculiar snapping one heard when the temperature dropped low enough. There were no scents- it was too freezing. The chill seared the nostrils past sensing, but if one could smell anything, it would smell of imminent snowfall, even though the sun blazed in red and orange glory on the horizon, the sun fleeing from the indigo darkness that threatened it every dusk and not a single brilliant pink cloud hung in the upper atmosphere. It would smell of pine boughs that released their scent as their pliable bark bent and splintered, and of cold, sterile death. Dead winter in the north was an unfriendly and uninviting place. It urged people with stony eyes and jerky movements to go back inside and have a nice cup of hot cider or tea, or perhaps even some hot chocolate (the kind with the little marshmallows that always melt much too quickly) as you sit by the crackling fire fueled by wood you cut in the much more kindly autumn with its brilliant colors which warned you, like a venomous frog, of the imminent danger of the following season. Dry, pixie dust snow blew off the branches in swirling eddies of fiery hue as they caught the fading rays of the sun, sparkling for all the world like tiny fireflies. It was not advisable to walk around this place if not actively on fire, but at the very least a very heavy coat or two were required for basic survival. A man could die quickly in a place like this, and that was exactly what Arte seemed to be doing.

Arte's last steps were labored and stiff, as if his very blood was freezing yet as he lived. He was far beyond cold, now. He had stopped feeling much of anything about half an hour back or so. His brain seemed to have stopped working too, for the most part. All that kept him going was this unknowable instinct and a thought that would not leave him that he _had to get away_. Away from what, he did not know. Actually questioning what he was even doing out here was a process beyond him at this point. Even his sight was so dim that it appeared to him that it was already late into the twilight; the barest outlines of trees the only thing keeping him from bumping into them as he struggled onward. His hands were frozen to the golden shaft of his staff as he used it like a third leg to pull himself ever forward. From his arms dangled tattered remains of what looked like to be the very sort of heavy jacket that was required for basic survival and a bag that probably had at one point carried everything else one would need to live out here for at least a few days' time. It was an obvious last-ditch effort to keep himself warm enough to live on, but as it grew colder and colder, and the sun slinked behind the mountains in the distance, it became more apparent that his attempts had been in vain.

He did not so much stumble as his knees slowly gave out under him, and with several jerky motions, he slid down to the ground. His hands, still frozen in their death-grip, slid down the staff until they were so far down that the staff could topple over into the deep frozen powder. His face hit shortly after, but no fiery explosion of cold and pain awaited it. Arte was far too numb to any longer even know where he was, what he was doing, or even _who_ he was, let alone what the condition of his skin was in. He had reached the end of the line. Really, not so much had been asked of him. Sure, his existence likely would have been miserable, but is not some existence better than none at all? Well, Arte was certainly not the one to ask the riddles of philosophy. In fact, all that the young and foolhardy Arte really knew at that moment was that everything was black.

-

Warmth was, quite frankly, the very last thing Arte expected to feel. Well, unless he died and went to some sort of afterlife, and in that case he expected to be very warm indeed. As it stood, he was marginally uncomfortably warm, which was a much better alternative than any that immediately came to mind. Of course, such thoughts did not linger in his mind. Anything that came to his mind, really, seemed to slide right off like an oil slick on water. That inability to keep a thought was almost blissful. Arte was very unused to spending any amount of time not thinking, s, for the time being, it was a welcome respite. It turned out that he did not spend much time in this thoughtless state, so when the darkness came and took him fare less forcefully this time, all he really had been able to take stock of was that he was warm and very likely not dead. And being not dead was most likely a very good thing to be, but one never knew.

Arte came to very slowly, and for all that he was warm, his body still felt frozen. He could barely twitch. His eyes felt glued shut, as well as his mouth. After a few moments of trying to figure out what was going on, he decided against it. It hit him very suddenly that he was extremely sore in most every joint, his head was pounding fit to fall off, and he felt generally nauseous and unwell. That would likely explain why he felt so incredibly warm at this juncture, and he tried fitfully to wiggle a bit out of the blankets, to no avail. He attempted to open his eyes, but when his retinas were greeted with a shower of headache-worsening sparks, he screwed them tightly shut once more, pretending like the whole episode never happened. It felt like his thoughts were covered with some sort of sticky, slimy film. Keeping a thought for just a few seconds simply was not working out for him. He could determine, however, that he was ill, but his body would not quite let him go back to sleep yet. He hated when that happened, but in his recollection he could not remember being so ill before. This was a new but far from exciting experience. He did briefly wonder why he was so sick, but could not quite grasp the situation in its entirety. He remembered… something… about being frozen to his very bones and possibly something about a near-death experience, but overall what had happened eluded him. It was best not to dwell on it anyway was his conclusion.

Carefully, he made a second attempt at opening his eyes. The room was thankfully dark, but it took a few moments for the brightly-colored spots to swim out of his vision. It left him staring at a dark orange-grey ceiling which flickered fitfully from what he assumed was a fireplace somewhere in the room. He shifted a bit and heard the bed creaking under him. A bed. That was nice. The realization dawned on him slowly as he turned his head to look at the rest of the room that he had not the faintest idea of where he was. Once the full realization hit him, like a startled deer he attempted to jump across the room and flee. However, he was barely able to sit up at all before his head and stomach caught up to him, making him flop back down with a groan. At least the adrenaline gave him the energy necessary to curl up on his side as he tried to bite back his nausea. The room swirled around him in an uneven whirlpool on a varying axis. It was overall quite unpleasant.

A noise outside the thin crack of yellow light that he assumed was the door to get in here nearly made Arte jump out of his skin. His hands reflexively clutched at the blankets as this unknown individual opened the door, flooding the room with light. This caused several miniature explosions to go off in Arte's head, and finally the gates to sleep opened once more. He fled from the light into the darkness of unconsciousness. The last thing he heard was "Oh, look! Our guest is awa- oh. Huh. Um… nevermind."


	2. Third time's a charm

Coming around the third time was certainly a more pleasant experience than the previous two. Oh, he most certainly still felt absolutely awful. But it was the kind of awful that he could stand. Well, he could not literally stand, that much he was entirely sure, but Arte did not feel death's breath down his neck presently. His eyes opened slowly once more, to more light in the room than the previous time. However, he did not seem to be as light-sensitive, which was a pointed relief. He wondered how long he had been asleep, but he did not even know what time of day it was, as a quick survey of the room showed that there were no windows. That was nice, as windows would allow in cold, and he had no desire to be cold. Swiftly his memory returned to him. His leaving, his misfortunes, the deadly grip of Winter… Arte grasped at his head, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. He had really almost died. It was a damn miracle that he was not dead now. Whatever illness he had now was more than well deserved. He probably deserved a few more, in fact. Would he say he deserved death, though? No. No he would not. A groan coming unbidden to his throat, he sat up, wavering as the room spun around him, but it was not so bad as the last time. This he could handle. He looked around; the door was slightly more ajar than it was the last time he took stock of his surroundings, and leaning next to it was his staff. As his eyes fell upon it, he yearned for it. That staff, it was his livelihood. All his strength emanated from that staff, and the fact that it was so far away from him while he was this weak… if only he could get it. His hand stretched out towards it, but it eluded his grasp. He leaned further and further forward, trying to get it. Finally, his fingers brushed it, and it fell sideways, landing half outside the door. In a desperate attempt to grab it as it fell, he overbalanced and landed quite heavily on the ground with a loud _thump_.

That much was certainly enough to alert anyone in this… wherever he was… to his presence. He heard the scraping of chairs beyond the door, and, knowing that people would be there soon, tried to scramble quickly up onto the bed. The door opened, not so suddenly this time, while Arte was still half-off the bed. He looked behind him for a moment to see two silhouettes before making it the rest of the way back up. He turned around to face them, and then looked at their faces. One was a grinning youth, probably a year or so younger than Arte himself. The other was a female… and she looked none-too happy. In fact, he could not see even the slightest line in her face that would suggest that she had ever smiled. Her icy stare reinforced that. He shivered a bit under that stare, although whether it was because he was intimidated or because his body was used to being under blankets for some time he could not say. The boy bubbled into the room, picking up Arte's staff and handing it to him. Arte took it more graciously than he would have thought, his hands desperately groping after it. He clutched it to his chest, feeling whole. A surge of energy flowed through him at the touch of its shaft to his skin, and he sighed. "Thank you," he grated, and found himself surprised at how quiet and hoarse his voice was. The boy's grin widened.

"No problem!" he exclaimed, causing Arte to wince. The effervescent lad plopped himself down on the bed next to Arte. Arte blinked at him, half confused and half wary. It was safe to say that Arte had no idea who these people were. "Glad to see you awake! What in Arceus's name were you doing out in the snow in the dead of winter, anyway? No coat, no food… you're so lucky we found you!" Well, it seemed it was also safe to say that these were the people who had rescued him from his own stupidity. Unconsciously, his finger traced the top of the staff, around its golden near-circle, tapping each of the four little branches that came off of it. He looked over at the boy, who was still smiling. He made a sharp contrast to his… whatever she was. The boy's hair was a light green with a darker green streak that hung in his face. A necklace of large, round, green beads clung tightly to his neck. He was also wearing a pink dress. Altogether, he was a rather startling creature to Arte. "The name's Kallo, by the way," the green-haired boy said, and then jabbed his thumb in the girl's direction. "And that's my cousin. Her name's Jessica."

The one named Jessica was equally confounding in her own way, aside from her intensely cold red eyes. Her hair was a more dirty blonde, but with a long green streak that ran into a short ponytail that he could see dangling just behind her neck. She, too, wore a necklace of green beads, but hers were cones as opposed to spheres. Her clothing was also intensely more masculine than her cousin's. She sighed and looked over at Kallo. "Go get the Stantler some tea," she commanded, her voice every bit as cold as her eyes. Arte's ears fell. So… they knew what he was. Well, they would probably have to. It was painfully obvious, what with the soft brown ears and the staff shaped like one of his kinds' antlers. But what that really meant was that they had probably contacted the Herd, and someone would shortly be coming to get him, if they were not already here now. His hands grasped reflexively on his staff as the cross-dressing boy hopped up and darted out the door past his cousin. He watched as the boy left, dazedly wondering what a Chikorita and Bayleef were doing in such cold climes.

The woman said nothing until Kallo had returned with a cup of steaming tea. He shoved it at Arte, who laid his staff down across his lap and accepted it. It was yet too hot to drink, so he just let the clay mug warm his hands. He caught the Chikorita staring curiously at him, and Arte's red gaze met his. Kallo shook his head, then tilted it, still staring at Arte most uncomfortably. "So um… Mister Stantler. Uh… what's your name?" Arte considered this for a moment or two before answering. He rarely had to respond to the query of what his name was, as living with the Herd, there was not a soul about him who had ever NOT known his name before.

"Arte," he said decisively, but as he inhaled a moment after, he descended into a fit of coughing. It took a while to subside, and he finally quelled it with a few sips of tea.

"Arte, huh? Well, it'll be nice to call you a name instead of constantly referring to you as 'the Stantler' now." Still, Kallo looked over at his cousin with a look that suggested that her terminology for Arte was unlikely to change. For some reason, that disheartened Arte some. He wondered why she was so unfriendly, but it likely had something to do with why there was a Grass Type in the far north. He took a deep breath and inched his way back to the wall to keep himself up. He was still faintly dizzy, and rapidly tiring.

"I… um… thank you for rescuing me," Arte said awkwardly. He looked down into the mug of tea for a few moments, avoiding the gazes of the other people in the room, then took a long drink. The hot liquid felt great going down his throat, which he realized was starting to hurt. Yeah, he was sick, and he completely deserved it. Stupid Stantler-boy. He looked back up at his hosts, seeing Kallo staring at him curiously, and Jessica's expression completely unreadable.

"You're welcome!" the boy replied happily. "It's nice to get a visitor that Jess will let stay around the house other than Jake. He's a cantankerous old-"

"Ahem," came a voice from the other room.

"Cantankerous old weed," Kallo finished, with a sharp nod.

"And you're an idiot!" said who Arte assumed was Jake in a sing-song voice.

Even at that banter, Jessica's expression did not change. Arte shivered again, and this time he was sure it was because he was intimidated, and just a little bit creeped out. In fact, the whole relationship between the bouncing Chikorita and his Bayleef cousin was a little unnerving. And the whole fact that they were living in what he assumed was the middle of nowhere did not help matters at all. Had he stumbled upon some of those "bad people" he had heard only the faintest rumors of back in the Herd when they told tales of why they were so secluded? No, they could not have been. They had saved his life and even now were taking care of him while he was too weak and ill to care for himself. He looked at his arms and found himself surprised to see that they were bandaged, although he should not have been. Salvaging the remains of his coat and bag obviously would not have been enough to stave off frostbite. He sighed and rubbed at his aching head. He was so lost and confused… and it was all the Herd's fault.

"Hey, are you alright? You still look pretty off," Kallo said, looking at him closer in a way that definitely violated Arte's personal space.

_I still feel pretty off_, Arte thought. Jessica's sudden interjection snapped him out of that line of thought.

"Kallo, go grab him some stew. Mostly broth." Her voice was so commanding. The Chikorita went off to do her bidding immediately. As he bolted out the door, she watched him go, and then turned back to Arte. He flinched, however slightly, as her stony stare passed over him. She walked over and he froze, but with a strange gentleness, she laid her hand on his forehead. He stared up at it, going cross-eyed. She _hmm_ed for a second, before finally saying anything. "You appear to still be a bit feverish. Eat, rest, and you should be over it shortly. You depressed your immune system greatly by pulling whatever fool stunt you did, and you only deserve what you're feeling right now."

_Great bedside manner. At least she agrees with me, I guess._ "Yes'm," is what he said, though. Kallo came back in quickly, somehow not sloshing the contents of the bowl over the side, despite the fact that when he handed it to the Stantler, it was rather full. Apparently, his was a controlled boundless energy of some sort. Arte set the mug that was in his other hand carefully on the floor, trying not to splash the soup. It proved to be a difficult task when he had to inch his way to the side of the bed to do it. Still, he somehow managed, and took a sip of the soup. It was the broth of a vegetable stew, with no hint of meat with quite a few spices in it. Very, very typical of Grass Types, especially of the Chikorita line, he would assume. It was very tasty, and actually did wonders for settling his stomach. Still, it was uncomfortable being watched the whole time he was eating.

Arte made short work of his meal, and with a gentlemanly bow that was quite unbefitting of his outfit, Kallo took the bowl and hopped back outside. Jessica stared at him unnervingly for a little while longer, while Arte stared back and tried to guess at what she was thinking. Unfortunately, her gaze told nothing of her thoughts, and so he swiftly gave up. "Are you really going to keep looking at me like that?" he finally asked, swiftly tiring of her cold attitude. If she was startled at his sudden inquiry, she did not show it. Arte sighed in consternation. He could not quite be mad at her, considering she had saved his life, but she was certainly grating on his nerves, and he had not even been around her long. At her lack of response, he turned to his arms, which he just realized itched abominably. He scratched tentatively at the bandages wrapped around them, then, heartened, began to scratch them with more vigor.

"Stop that." Arte stopped, immediately. Jessica was looking at him. "You will never heal that way. Leave them be." The Stantler's arms dropped onto the bed. Maybe… maybe she was deaf? And that was why she did not respond. It might also be why she could so easily stand to live with that shrill tenor that her cousin sported. It was a definite possibility. Arte yawned, stretching his muscles stiff with misuse, and winced. He was pretty sore, but that was to be expected with how he felt currently. Man, he had really done a number on himself. _But completely deserved_, he berated himself once more. He looked over and realized that Jessica had walked out of the room, but she was swiftly replaced by a Kallo who darted in and slammed himself on the end of Arte's little cot once more. He bounced up and down a few times from the force of his landing, hands clamped on the side of the mattress.

"So, Arte," he began, "why were you walking around in the middle of the woods without a coat anyway? It does not seem like something someone would do for fun. Ooooh, were you being chased by bandits? Oooooh! Are you a bandit being chased! Did you steal some precious treasure- wait, no. There was nothing on you but your staff… Did you steal the staff?" Arte's eyes widened slightly and he tilted his head at the flurry of completely inane questions. Was this kid serious?

"I um… no?" was all the startled Stantler could think to say. He licked his lips, and then reached down to grab the mug again. The drink had cooled pretty quickly, but any amount of moisture was welcome to him at that point. Kallo's pointed little ears fell ever so slightly.

"Oh, so what were you doing, then?" he asked, a little less excitedly.

Arte pondered this. "Being an idiot," was the response he decided on. "A completely unjustified idiot. To be fair, I might look a little old to be doing it, but… I was running away from home." It sounded completely stupid in his ears, and he blushed slightly for having admitted it, but for some reason it felt wrong to lie to the Chikorita. He sighed and ran bandaged fingers through his hair. However, Kallo did not seem as crestfallen anymore.

"Oooh, a runaway then? That's... fantastic!"

"Fantastic?" Arte squeaked, startled as ever by this bubbly lad.

"Oh, yeah. You see, I'm kinda a runaway too. You see, the Grass Militia doesn't much care for dress-wearing, girly weaklings, and my parents don't care much for them either." Arte's ears pricked forward a little at the undertone of hurt in the boy's otherwise enthusiastic voice. "Those uniforms just didn't have any of the freedom of a skirt, you know? Yeah, my parents sent me there to 'man up' at 16… I finally got out at 18, and I've been here for a good year now, living with Jess and Jake." Arte found himself staring and quickly shifted his gaze to his staff. This kid was two years older than he was? He looked about fifteen or sixteen, at the very most. Well, appearances could always be deceiving, and truth be told, Arte knew little about species other than Stantler, except for a little bit he knew from the Xatu merchant that Teleported in with goods and supplies for the Herd. Chikorita could age slowly or something. Who knew how old Jess might be, because she looked to be about in her mid twenties. She could be sixty for all Arte knew.

"I… I'm sorry to hear that…" he said lamely, but Kallo waved off his sentiments.

"Nah, I'm mostly over it. Living in this cabin is really freeing, strangely enough. I can be me, completely and utterly. No one judges, no one hates. It's nice, really. I would like to eventually go back to society, though. I… don't think I'm ready for it yet, and I don't think society's ready for me."

_Damn this kid. He's way more complex than I gave him credit for. Now I feel like a jerk for just assuming he's some kind of simple child or something. Well, that's what I get. And his reason for running away seems a lot better than mine. I heard that the Types all had little pseudo-militaries for discipline and stuff from Shenna. I didn't know that they would like… frown on… guys who wear dresses? I guess it makes sense. _Men aren't supposed to wear dresses. _Well, it's odd… but if a guy wants to wear a frilly skirt, that's his business._

"I'm sorry," Kallo said, breaking Arte from his thought process. "I didn't weird you out too much, did I?" Arte blinked at Kallo, then shook his head slightly.

"No, not at all. I guess I'm still a bit tired and dazy is all. Really, it's not weird at all to me." _Well, maybe a little, but it's your choice, chap._

Kallo looked pretty relieved, like he was certain that Arte was going to be one of those people from "society" that disapproved of him, and that he would bring the hate into this cabin which was like his safe haven. Well, Arte certainly was not going to be a terrible guest, at least not in that sense. He was a terrible guest in the way that he essentially showed up on their doorstep uninvited and dying and they had the choice of either saving his ice-caked ass or letting him freeze. Arte pinched the bridge of his nose. The Chikorita nodded. "Oh, alright… do you want to go to sleep or something?" he asked, but Arte shook his head again.

"No, not quite yet. I do not think my body'll let me anyway, not yet."

Kallo tilted his head. "Ooh, alright. Mind sharing why you left, then?" Arte shrugged.

"Because I'm an idiot. Got that whole 'I don't feel like I belong' feeling, as well as wanderlust, and a general displeasure with the lot in life that was drawn for me. It probably wouldn't have been a bad life if I stayed. Better than dying, at least… but still. It didn't feel right to stay." Kallo's sudden appearance in front of Arte, grasping the Stantler's hands between his own, made Arte freeze completely like a deer in the headlights.

"You did the right thing," the Chikorita said in all seriousness. "If you're not comfortable in your way of life, change it. _Make_ yourself comfortable. _Do_ something about it. Like retreat into a cabin in the middle of the woods. Or run away from home."

"I… that doesn't exactly sound very responsible when you put it that way…" Arte muttered dubiously. Kallo shook his head.

"No, but you're being _proactive_, and that's what counts." Yeah, but he was probably being proactive in the wrong way. Well, not that it mattered. It was only a matter of time before someone came to get him, since it was unlikely that someone was here now. Otherwise, they probably would have come in or something. Unless it was that Jake person who was supposed to pick him up, but it sounded like Kallo had said something about living with him for a while here. "Your mind's really wandering, isn't it?" Kallo asked, causing Arte to notice him again. "I get the hint. Alright. You get some rest. I'll bother you later." He grinned, got up, and strode out of the room, his dress swaying as he went.

Arte watched him go, and then flopped back down on the bed. He knew he would be entering a strange world when he left the Herd, but he obviously was wholly unprepared for how strange the world would actually be. And he had only met two new people! As he had not even seen Jake yet, he did not count this unknown party. He was an idiot for leaving in the middle of the winter, he thought as he stared up at the ceiling, but maybe he could still pull this off. There was a whole wide world out there for him, with all sorts of interesting people and Pokémon. He would not be stuck living in the same house all his life, doing the job the Herd had decided was best for him. Maybe having a vocation picked out for them worked for the rest of the Stantler he knew, but not him. No, he was done there. It was time to move on. But first, his body needed to repair itself from the damage he had done to it. As he thought, he drifted off into feathery sleep, not to wake again for some time.


	3. A night by firelight

Arte leaned over the wooden table, placing his chips in the middle with everyone else's. "I raise," he said, leaning back with a completely blank face. Of course, Arte's poker face would never be comparable to Jessica's, for her stony expression would not be able to be matched by even Regirock. She was fantastic at poker because of this, and get way more into it than anyone would give her credit for. Kallo looked at his cards, placed it on the table, and then threw up his hands.

"I fold," he said, shoving his hand into the middle of the table near the poker chips. Jake, who sat across from the table, stared at his cards in consternation. It was always hard for him to even hold the cards, sandwiched between his two leaves, but he tended to manage to at least play. Unfortunately for his massive ego, he was worse at poker than even Kallo, and had worse luck than all of the other people living in the cabin combined. The Bellsprout growled, then put his cards in the middle too, not even bothering to tell anyone that he folded. He crossed his leaves and sat back in his small, high chair (not to be confused with a highchair, of course) with a _harrumph_. That left Jessica, who just stared at him, before moving her chips to match his. Arte barely suppressed a grin. He turned over his cards, showing two aces and two kings. Jessica just turned over her cards, which showed two jacks and two queens.

"Yesss," Arte hissed, bringing the chips towards him. Jessica was certainly a formidable player, but sometimes luck was just on his side. His ears twitched as the house groaned under the heavy winds outside, but he was unconcerned. He pretty much had been forbidden to leave until it started getting warmer, and while the temperatures certainly were on the rise, the fact that there was still more than a foot of snowpack on the ground meant that he was not going to go anywhere anytime soon. Quite frankly, that was fine by him. Life here was a quiet, peaceful one amongst good friends, even if they were some of the oddest people he had ever met. Kallo looked at him forlornly.

"I think I'm done for now," he said, pushing back his chair. Jake unfolded his fronds.

"Yeah, me too."

Arte shrugged. "Alright, that's fair. Any other card games you guys want to play?" he asked, but was answered by the shaking of all three heads. He shrugged again. "Alright, then what?"

"Story time?" Kallo suggested innocently. That was better received, but it was pretty much what anything they did devolved into after a while. Really, all it was was people recounting their pasts, and a lot of it was what ended up getting them to this cabin. Jessica's stories divulged little about why, but Jake and Kallo seemed to know, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that she did not care to tell Arte why she even had this place. That was fine by him. He was not going to snoop. The fire crackled in the fireplace, whipped around by the small gusts of air that occasionally made their way down the chimney. That was all the sound there was for a good minute before anyone decided to speak up. "Well, alright then," Kallo said, looking over at Arte. "You've been here for a month. I think it's finally about time you told us exactly what happened when you decided to go out wandering in the middle of winter without a coat."

Arte frowned. "I did not leave without a coat, you know. I've told you that like a hundred times now. I'm not a complete idiot, I'll have you know. Just mostly. And I'll also have you know that it wasn't paradoxical stripping. I'm not a fan of stripping normally or cold-addled. No, when I left, I thought I would be fully provisioned. I had blankets, food, water, a lighter. I know how to build a snow bunker. My coat was nice and warm, and I even had a pair of snow pants to go over these." He indicated the pants he was wearing now, which were worn but still wearable. "I was totally ready to at least get to a town on the edge of the forest… but dear Arceus I had some bad luck. Everything was fine for the first two days. I was reasonably warm, fed, watered, and got sufficient sleep. It was all going pretty well, considering. Then I was walking along and the snow gave way underneath me. Unfortuantely I was walking atop a ridge whose walls were covered in briars. That pretty much ripped everything I had half to hell. And at the bottom of this ridge was a stream. Well, pretty much all of the things in my bag, which had been ripped open, fell into the water and floated away before I could untangle myself from my shredded clothes. Lighter, most of my food but two apples, my water, all gone. And while I did catch my blanket, it was too frozen with stream water to even be of any use to anyone, as well as being ripped in several places. I took it with me… but I don't know where it got to. I wrapped what was left of my coat around my arms and hands, and the pants around my legs, but those seemed to disappear eventually, too. From there everything's kind of hazy. But needless to say, it's hardly my fault I nearly died."

"Except for the fact that you decided to go out in the middle of winter," Jake pointed out.

"Well, it was either 'get going right now' or not at all, so I took my chances."

"And nearly died because of them," continued the Bellsprout ruthlessly.

"Shut uuppp. But I was doing fine until the snow gave out."

"What were you even doing walking along a ridge? That's a terrible idea in any situation, but especially a blustery winter day where the cold could kill you in minutes."

"I have some natural resistance to the cold. Not like a Fire Type or anything, mind, but obviously it took more than a few minutes to kill me. Or, almost kill me, rather. Also, shut up."

Satisfied, the Bellsprout chuckled and sat back in his chair, crossing one of his root-like legs over the other and steepling his leaves. Arte rolled his eyes at him, then turned to Kallo, and the other boy shook his head.

"Yeah, still sounds pretty stupid to me, too," the Chikorita admitted, almost sheepishly, like he felt bad to be agreeing with Jake. Arte rolled his eyes again and while his first instinct was to look at Jessica, he realized he would gain very little from such a venture. Instead he sighed a bit dramatically and put his head down on the table.

"I just can't win- except in poker. I _can_ win in poker."

"Fuck you too," Jake said irritably.

The night continued with amused prodding and witty banter, life stories, and even a few made up ones, like long-standing legends. But eventually they all decided it was time to retire when all there was to hear was the crackling of the fire and the howling of the wind. They bid each other goodnight, and all went to their respective rooms. Arte grabbed a candle and one of the books from the shelves to bring back into his room. This place had no power plant, so no Electric Pokémon were generating electricity, nor were there any water wheels or wind catchers. All of the light in the cabin, what with the windows boarded up for winter, came from fire. It was funny that a bunch of Grass Types were so dependent on fire, but then it was not any sillier than the fact that they all lived in the cold north in the middle of winter, so he supposed it made as much sense as anything did around here. Reading by candlelight tended to be a bit of an eyestrain, but they kept the most interesting books here. Histories, old scientific journals, even a psychology textbook. All the fiction in the cabin was by word of mouth only. Everything on the short bookshelf kept a few feet from the fireplace were informative texts. Living here certainly gave Arte time to bone up on his sciences. At the moment, he had one of the history texts, one about the early founding of the supercontinent that everyone lived on now. He had read bits and pieces of it before, and it was an odd one. It was nothing like the legends he had heard about. In fact, it was quite contrary to everything he had ever heard, and that in itself made it interesting. The old stories about how Ho-oh brought humans and Pokémon together, about how the great phoenix raised Kyogre and Groudon from their slumbers to build the world anew and sheltered all living things under its wings while the entirety of the world was rebuilt… it sounded really grandiose. This was simple and factual, and actually a bit disturbing at times.

It appeared the whole thing started with what pretty much amounted to an army of wild Pokémon. A small army, yes, but one nonetheless. Apparently this army went on a rampage, trying to dissuade humans from capturing wild Pokémon and breaking up families and destroying the delicate ecosystem. However, when they attempted to assault a city, all but a small Houndour pup were killed by the humans and their "trained" Pokémon in self-defense. Arte shuddered. Even stories about capturing made anyone a little nervous. Apparently, in their rage and desire for vengeance, the army came back as another army of Ghost Pokémon, and all attached themselves to this small, unwary pup. They invaded her mind, each combining with her soul. While they fed her their power, they also drove her completely insane. This Houndour pup, now a fully-evolved Houndoom overflowing with energy, was known as Anaiura. Of course, since humans could not understand Pokémon at the time, it is quite the wonder that her name was recorded. Apparently, this Anaiura gathered under her a great majority of the wild and vengeful Ghost Pokémon of the time, building her own army that was capable of phasing through buildings and essentially being able to get whatever they wanted. They were the ultimate soldiers for her purposes- able to sneak into houses at night and snuff the life from sleeping humans while breaking their Pokéballs with the Pokémon still inside. The history made sure to note that destroying a ball with a Pokémon yet within it killed the Pokémon without them ever knowing what happened.

This was far from a pretty history. History, he had thought, was always a pretty thing, but it stood to reason that life was not rainbows and lollipops now, and never was. This army was proving to be an unstoppable force, what with their ability to completely disappear at a moment's notice and their guerilla tactics. The Pokémon League was in a panic. Even Morty, renowned psychic and Ghost trainer could not so much as predict their movements. It was a terrifying situation. However, there was some bright light to be cast, some hope left. One person who was instrumental to taking down the entirety of the organization through a series of battles and things that were stuff of more interesting and even believable legend, was a self-proclaimed Pokémon "shaman" named Trish. An entirely too normal name for someone who stopped an army of marauding wild Pokémon from killing everyone they came in contact with, but there it was. She could understand Pokémon perfectly in their own language, and communicate with them psychically in a way most others were unable to at that time. She, with a team of her own Pokémon, and some love interest or another were able to go in and kill Anaiura. A point was made that Anaiura was glad to die, and to finally release all the vengeful souls that had tacked themselves onto her, constantly flooding her with thoughts and images and energy so that she always felt she would burst aflame and wither. Apparently the process of taking down this group of Pokémon truly brought together humankind and Pokémon, which is when, indeed, Ho-oh returned to its perch atop the Brass Tower

Ho-oh deemed that humans and Pokémon were in perfect harmony, now, which gave Ho-oh the power to do almost anything. The peace in the world strengthened the phoenix, allowing it to ensure that never again would it lose power so. By turning the humans into part Pokémon themselves, and apparently placing a geas on them, Ho-oh assured its continued power over the forces of life and death. Trish, apparently, opposed this openly, unaffected by the geas. She faced down the firebird, demanding that free will be restored to human and Pokémon alike. Nearly holding the power of Arceus itself, though, Ho-oh was unfazed by Trish's anger, and instead transformed her fully into an Espeon, while her lover became an Umbreon. Trish was apparently locked away, frozen for all of time while the male escaped, never to be heard from again, or so the book claimed. The book went on to speak about how Ho-oh woke Groudon and Kyogre to reshape the world as it pleased while Groudon created a huge landmass for all of life to wait on while everything they knew and loved was remade into what the great phoenix determined was right. Strange, that Arte had never heard of this island before. Promise Island, it was called, and apparently still remains farther out in the sea than anyone cares to journey.

Arte closed the book, marveling at it. Even if it was untrue, it was certainly a more interesting story than all of the old legends he was used to. Most interesting of all, though, was how Ho-oh was portrayed in such a poor light. Almost, it seemed, as if the writer had a barely-contained personal grudge against it. It was a newer book, though, which brooked the question of how it could possibly be so accurate, if indeed it was accurate. It also made Arte wonder why anyone could hold a grudge against Ho-oh in these times. Ho-oh actually was rather secluded these days, not often venturing far from the Brass Tower, and, as far as he heard from Shenna, it was not really decreeing much anymore either. That might be odd, too, but he was a simple Stantler from the simple backwoods. He would like to become something more than a simple Stantler, perhaps a more urbane Stantler, but for the moment he was not. There was little reason in this world for anyone to hold any disagreement from the Bird of Life and Death. Perhaps the author had petitioned a loved one been revived and had been denied? Unfortunately, the author's name, Sean, left no clues even as to what Pokémon he was. Perhaps one of the Suicune clan had died and finally Ho-oh was fed up with reviving them? That seemed unlikely. Everyone knew about how the Raikou, Entei, and Suicune clans were beloved by Ho-oh, and were granted immortality by its claw. Arte blew out the candle and set the book down next to his bed. He snuggled under the covers and wondered until he finally fell asleep about all the things he had just read. Life really was a cruel place back in the old, poorly-recorded history. But surely since humans and Pokémon were at peace now, that was not the case, right?


	4. A snowball fight and the last night

"Dear Arceus that feels wonderful," Arte said, stretching in the breeze. It was well above freezing now outside, and the snow was beginning to melt and rapidly. Although quite bundled up yet, even the three Grass Types he had lived with over the winter were outside, looking at the sluggish, slate grey sky. It would not be too terrible long now before it was well and truly spring, and even Jessica was in high spirits presented with that information. With a wicked smile, Arte jumped, grabbed a handful of snow, and lobbed it in Kallo's direction. The snowball hit the Chikorita straight in the face, chunks of rapidly melting water sliding down his cheek as he stood there stunned. After a moment or two, he shook himself out of it, and glared over in Arte's direction.

"Oh, oh you _bastard_. That's it. Let's go." Kallo pushed up his sleeves and bent down to pick up a ball of snow for himself, but another loosely-packed snowball hit him in the top of the head while he was bent over. By the time Kallo stood up, he could only hear Arte's laughter, as the Stantler had already disappeared behind one of the many trees that surrounded the cabin. Desperately, he looked to his cousin and friend, but neither of them even winked him a hint. Their faces were blank as slates. "Aaaugh," he said, throwing his hands up in the air. "That's it, you damn Stantler. I'm coming for you!" The Chikorita hiked up his skirts and trudged off through the snow, a ball becoming more and more packed the longer it sat in his gloved hand held out to his side menacingly. Of course, just as he thought he saw the deer Pokémon, and went to lob his projectile, he got hit in the back of the head, causing him to jerk forward in surprise. His snowball dropped to the ground, falling deep within the snow, and he turned around to see Arte prancing off behind him, practically giggling. Kallo looked exasperatedly over at the brown-haired youth that darted with far more grace than the Chikorita would have given him credit for. He could not help but grin, though. It was obvious that Arte had a hell of a lot of practice doing this sort of thing. Reindeer games, he supposed it was. Playing with so many other youths in such a fashion would have to make you good at it. It was either that, or get completely decimated, and Arte did not seem the type that got constantly beat upon by his peers. Not like Kallo, but that was not something that he liked to dwell upon. Oh, he was completely over it. It just was not a fun thing to think about. There were a lot of "not fun" things to think about for the cross-dressing Chikorita.

"I'm not letting you go back inside until you score at least one hit on me," Arte informed him, ducking behind a tree again.

"_Bastard,_" Kallo replied feelingly, and laughed, grabbing another handful of snow. The game continued on for some time, before Arte simply stood there and took a hit. Kallo stalked up to him and poked him in the chest. "Hey, you didn't even _try_ to dodge!"

Arte shrugged. "Kallo, that was getting _boring_. I probably could have evaded your throws in my sleep if I really wanted to. You're baaad at this."

Kallo poked him again. "I'm a _Grass Type_, you dolt! You know what Grass Types don't do? Ice. I don't have practice, unlike you."

"Not my problem," Arte replied, and then headed back inside before Kallo could find a witty retort. Kallo's lips pursed in a frown before he followed the Stantler inside. Jessica and Jake had already long headed back within the warm walls of the cabin, not running around to keep themselves warm, and Jake, for one, did not feel particularly like wilting. When the Chikorita had finally made it inside, everyone else was sitting at the table. He shut the door behind him, and he heard Jess's voice.

"Spring is almost here…"

"Yes, I know. And I am fully aware of the implications thereof." That was Arte.

Kallo opened the door and saw Jessica and Arte seated across from one another at the table as the fire burned cheerfully in the fireplace. Jess spared him a brief glance before returning her gaze to Arte, who matched it just as expressionlessly. The Chikorita quietly shut the door behind him and took a seat next to Jess. He leaned over the table and looked up at her.

"Not entirely," she continued. "It also means that there will be search parties looking for you."

Arte looked as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on him. "Wh-what?" he sputtered. "But- how do you know?"

"While you were still ill and unconscious, your family came by. They were searching for you. When I told them that no, I had not seen you, they told me that they would have to wait until the spring thaw to likely uncover your dead body." She spoke without hesitation or sympathy. Her words failed to help Arte recover from his startlement. Kallo watched as the Stantler went deathly pale and forced down a gulp. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as he ran a hand through his soft brown hair.

"Aww… shit. Arceus. Arceus shit. I never meant for them to think I was dead…"

"You almost were dead," Jake said ruthlessly from his perch on a stack of wood near the fireplace.

"But… Jessica, why didn't you tell them that you found me?" He looked over at her, earnest and confused, but the Bayleef deigned not to answer. Arte sighed. "I'm sure you had your reasons. You always have reasons." He paused. "So what you're saying is if I want to stay out of the clutches of my Herd, I should probably leave soon, huh?"

"Precisely. And we will not be able to adequately provision you. It nears the end of the winter and our stores are dangerously low, especially as we had not planned for an extra mouth to feed."

"Right…" Arte said awkwardly. "No, that's fine. I had planned on feeding myself anyway. You have done far too much for me already. I could not impose on your hospitality any more than I already have. No, I'll take care of myself out there, and once I can, I'll make this all up to you. You'll just have to be patient while I set myself up in the real world. But I will come back, and I will compensate you for this winter."

"Aww, you don't have to," Kallo said, finally inserting himself into the conversation.

"Kallo is correct. There is no need for that," Jess agreed, but Arte shook his head.

"No, I want to. Just know that there will be no way for me to adequately express my gratitude, so let me do what I can, alright?"

"Alright," Jessica said with a nod of her own.

"That's sweet of you," said Kallo, smiling and putting his head in his hands.

"You'd fucking better," muttered Jake.

Arte took a deep breath. "Right. So I'm assuming I should head out tomorrow."

The Bayleef nodded and stood up. "It was what I was going to suggest." Arte stood up as well.

"Alright. I will try to stay ahead of the pack. Thank you very much." He walked around the table and extended a hand to Jessica, who stiffly took it. He gave her a sharp shake, released her hand, and disappeared into his small room, likely to gather what few things he had. After he had shut the door and they heard the sound of a lantern flame flickering into life, Kallo looked back up at his cousin.

"I'm going to miss him, you know," he said quietly. Jessica merely grunted and set off to her own room. Kallo frowned but a wave of Jake's leaf caught his attention.

"He did make it interesting around here. Guess it's nice to have another Type around, even if it is bland old Normal," the Bellsprout said, hopping off of the wood pile and walking over to his chair on his spindly roots. He climbed up it and sat down, gazing into the fire. "And it was nice to know that there are other misfits out there, too. Though he never did quite get around to telling us the precise reason he ran away, just '_that he didn't like the life that had been chosen for him'_. What could be so bad as to risk your life to get away from it?"

Kallo raised a wry eyebrow. "Plenty of things."

"Maybe he was getting married off?" Jake speculated.

"Or maybe he was assigned a job he had a moral objection to," Kallo suggested.

"Or maybe he was sworn to keep a terrible secret of the Herd," Jake said excitedly.

"Or he was witness to a murder!" Kallo exclaimed.

"That doesn't make any sense," Jake said with a frown. Kallo sighed.

"I know… but it would still be cool."

"Maybe he'll tell us when he comes back to visit."

"Maybe I'll just keep you guessing forever," came Arte's sarcastic tone from behind the door. They had forgotten that he could hear every word- it was not a large cabin, nor a very thick door. Kallo blushed furiously as he figured out what had happened and Jake laughed uproariously.

"You can't keep it from us forever!" Jake yelled over at the closed door.

Arte's muffled reply came as thus: "Now you're making me want to."

"Jackass."

"Weed."

Then the three of them laughed, and all were keenly aware that they were going to miss each other.


End file.
